


Ichneumonidae

by havocthecat



Series: Lantean Hive [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Body Modification, Het, Multi, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conversion AU. Only with a prettier, and higher mentally-functioning bug!John. Who has a retrovirus-developed mating urge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ichneumonidae

**Author's Note:**

> Story was originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_flashfic/477646.html) on LJ.

She'd started out by trying to talk to him. Carson was working on it. There was still hope for a cure. John wouldn't talk, wouldn't say anything. He just stared at her, meeting her pleading eyes with an intense yellow gaze that made Elizabeth shift uncomfortably and look away.

The search parties would never find them. When they came near the room John had locked them in, the dim lights blacked out entirely, and he surged near her, his body pressing against hers in the darkness, and his hand over her mouth. His palm was slightly rougher, and during the day, when sunlight slanted in through the small window, she could see faint scales patterned in the blue iridescence of his skin.

If she looked down, she could see that same blue iridescence spreading across her skin.

He'd held her up against the wall of his quarters, choking her, eyes bleeding into an angry yellow color as he snarled. When he'd let her drop, all Elizabeth could do was lay on the floor and gasp for breath. She hadn't realized what was happening until it was too late. John reached for her, hard-tipped fingers--claws--scratching against her arms as he picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. Ronon had given chase, tried to shoot them, but missed. She'd met his eyes with a wide, panicked gaze and he'd hesitated a second too long. John had vanished around the corner, into the dark hallways of one of the low-powered areas of the city.

No one knew Atlantis better than John.

He'd thrown her down in a dark room. When she'd stood, taking ragged, heaving gulps of air, John was standing in front of the door. "It's locked," he rasped, stalking closer to her.

Elizabeth had squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "John--"

"You're hurt," he'd said, taking her arms gently and turning them over, his thumb rubbing across one the gashes and smearing blood on her forearm. She met his gaze, her own expression full of resolve, and something flared in his eyes. He brought his palm up to his mouth, inhaling deeply, and then, lightning quick, he'd gashed teeth she'd never noticed had grown sharper against his palm, tongue flickering out delicately to lick at his wound, then clamping onto Elizabeth's arm hard, almost bruising her.

Elizabeth had wrenched herself free, stepping back and cradling her arm against her red shirt as John stared at her triumphantly. "I'll wait," he'd said, his voice rough in the dark room.

Elizabeth had felt the sharp sting of adrenaline flushing through her system. "That's how you were infected. Saliva and blood."

John's only answer had been a low chuckle. "Stay away from the door. I don't want to hurt you--"

"More than you already have," Elizabeth had said, more sharply than she'd intended.

"But I won't let you go. I can wait."

She hadn't been able to look at him since. The retrovirus was spreading through her system as quickly as it had spread through John's. Quicker. She stayed in the weak sunlight when she could, since John preferred the darker corners of the room, but all too soon, the yellow light had started hurting her eyes. Even when she'd finally conceded that, moving back, away from the window and into the dim blue lighting that John could call up with the ATA gene, she'd stayed as far away from him as possible.

When she was too exhausted to stay awake any longer, she sat down, leaning against one of the walls and falling asleep. Her dreams were full of unfamiliar sounds _she'd always known them_, alien chittering and claws scrabbling against stone _welcoming her to the hive_, and she woke up, a scream strangled in her throat, only to meet John's eyes, watching the hazel bleed away into yellow as he stared at her.

She _knew_ couldn't imagine what he wanted. _Heat, warmth, lust._ Elizabeth looked away, and John flinched back as if she'd pushed him. _Heat pooling between her thighs._ He spent every night staring at her, and when the sun rose and they slept _light hurt sensitive eyes_, she tried to forget her dreams. _Longing for skin against her, the same as hers, hard-edged nails turning to claws raking against toughened not-scales._ She didn't look at her reflection any more, afraid of the color of her eyes _yellow_ staring back at her.

Then, one night, she woke up and didn't look away. John came closer, inched toward her, one hand outstretched and she didn't flinch away _welcoming him_ from his fingertips on her cheek. A bare instant _forever_ passed, and then Elizabeth reached out _mine_ and pulled John to her, ripping his shirt as he slammed her hard against the wall _strong carapace strong mate_, shoving his shirt up as he tore at her clothing, pale blue skin against the scarlet _blood_ of her shirt.

Their clothing discarded _shed_, John's face pressed against her neck as he slid into her _mating_, with Elizabeth braced against the wall, hair tumbled and chaotic and with her head flung back. _Drawing him in, hers, always hers._ His breath rasped harsh in her ears _like it was supposed to_, and he shoved inside her, slamming her against the wall, she was ready _changed, they both knew it, both felt it_, his hands skimming across her body as she wrapped her legs around his waist. _Hormones ripening, flushing away human-made birth control implants._ They came together, moving and gripping and tearing _mated_ until finally, half-alien sounds _calling for their kind_ falling from their mouths as they slid down against the wall, lying sated and naked together, John's hand resting on her flat stomach. _Soon._

She looked fondly down at him, watching with _alien_ green eyes that held a faint hint of yellow in them _always now_ as he pressed a soft kiss to her belly, murmuring _chittering_ to the faint beginnings of life growing within her.

When John looked up, meeting her eyes, she held his gaze calmly. Tonight, after the sun set, they could leave. They would have to visit Carson, hold him and show him what they were. _He was hers too._ Rodney would dim the lights. Rodney would do anything for her _more soon_, and Ronon would be hers too, strong and tall _they were all hers_. John wrapped his arms around her, his skin _rasping_ against hers as he kissed her again, and they turned toward each other, eyes closing to sleep as Elizabeth's instincts hummed, and she knew deep in her blood what would come. _Queen._

***

It had only been seventy-two hours, and they were still scouring the city for Sheppard and Dr. Weir. Lorne's team had split this subsection of the city up an hour ago, each of them taking a quarter. He moved silently. Atlantis was nearly dead in these parts; the lighting dim. That's why they were here.

A faint choking sound caught his attention, and Lorne froze, his head whipping to the side. "Dr. Weir?"

"Major Lorne?" Something was seriously wrong. Dr. Weir _never_ sounded that upset. "I'm in a room here. I can't open the door from the inside."

"Is Colonel Sheppard in there?" Lorne glanced around, heading for the direction he heard her voice in.

"Not--not any more," said Elizabeth, her voice catching.

There was a faint thread of power thrumming under his feet. Someone with the gene had been by, activating this area of the city. Lorne followed the trail, until he was standing in front of a door that opened when he waved his hand in front of the panel. Dr. Weir was standing in the room, a slanted ray of sunlight falling onto the floor in front of her. Her clothing was torn and filthy and she stared at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. Lorne touched his earpiece, but pulled his hand away as she shook her head, hair falling softly around her face.

"Please," said Dr. Weir softly. "I just-- John's not here. I don't know where he is."

"Did he--" Lorne hesitated fractionally. "Did he hurt you?"

Dr. Weir shook her head. "I'm a little banged up, but that's about the extent of it." She swallowed. "It's all minor injuries."

Lorne let his breath out slowly. "I need to call a medical team to stand by," he said. "We need to leave now, so a team can sweep this section of the city for Colonel Sheppard."

"I sprained my ankle," said Dr. Weir. Her voice was so faint he had to strain to hear it. "I'm going to need help walking to the infirmary."

Lorne nodded. "Right. Let's go now. I'm not waiting until Colonel Sheppard comes back and finds us here." He shouldered his P-90 and stepped into the room, walking over to Dr. Weir. She stared up at him as he slipped one arm around her. Lorne swallowed, trying not to feel the way she fit herself against his body as she leaned into him.

They stepped forward, Dr. Weir wrapping her arms around his waist. Dr. Weir flinched when the light from the window fell across her eyes. Lorne glanced down and froze. A pearly blue sheen covered her skin.

Dr. Weir paused, the questioning look on her face turning into a smirk when she saw him tightening his grip on his P-90. She reached up, blindingly fast, and wrenched the radio out of his ear as the door hissed closed. Dr. Weir tossed the radio at the door, and Colonel Sheppard caught it, looking smugly at Lorne.

"Fuck," said Lorne, and Dr. Weir pulled the P-90 out of his hands and sent it clattering off into the shadows. He backed up, pulling out his handgun and aiming it at Colonel Sheppard. "Okay, could one of you say something? The lack of talking is getting creepy."

Lorne fired off a couple of shots at Colonel Sheppard, who dodged out of the way, blindingly fast, and while he was distracted, Dr. Weir wrenched his hands to the side, squeezing the tendons of his wrist until the gun clattered to the floor. Colonel Sheppard stood back in front of the door, his arms crossed, glowering at Dr. Weir, until she turned and, no shit, _hissed_ at the Colonel.

Sheppard glared at Elizabeth, and Lorne shook his head, twisting his wrist to pull out of Elizabeth's grip. She was suddenly stronger than her fragile appearance belied.

He kicked out, trying to sweep her feet from under her, but Elizabeth stepped back, then forward, and pushed him down, so Lorne slammed into the ground, his head cracking against the metal floor so hard his vision went double.

She was on him in a heartbeat, straddling him, and Sheppard was standing nearer, leaning over him and snarling as Lorne pushed at Elizabeth, whose laugh was almost a high-pitched screech. She pulled up his shirt, swiping her nails down his chest, then licking her palm, swiping her hands along his chest and smearing saliva into the wounds. Lorne cursed, his vision still blurry, as he tried to remember what Doctor Beckett had told them about how Sheppard had been infected.

Elizabeth shoved him down again, stepping back at the same time as Sheppard reached down to haul her up, pulling her into his arms as his hand settled protectively over her stomach. "Only a matter of time now," he rasped at Lorne. "Welcome to the club."

***

Lorne had rolled over an hour ago, puked his guts out, and tried not to black out at the high-pitched squeals that sent pain shooting through his skull. Sheppard and Elizabeth were making sounds no human throat _weak, limited_ had been designed for, he was damn sure of that, and when he'd squinted at them, blurry eyesight or not, he was pretty sure he'd seen them lying together, each with a hand on Elizabeth's _pregnant_ stomach, and making those sounds at each other. At least they'd been making those sounds when they weren't _communing through the hive_ staring at each other silently.

If he'd thought the way the command staff of Atlantis communicated was odd before, this was _right_ downright freaky. The fact that it was starting to make sense was beyond freaky, passed though scary, and went right into batshit terrifying.

Elizabeth was staring _curious want_ at him now, and Lorne rolled his eyes as another bout of nausea had him groaning. Sheppard was glaring _no_ something fierce. "I've probably got a skull fracture," Lorne said, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "No need to worry about little ol' me. Don't bother calling the infirmary. I'll just let the blood pool up under my skull until I go unconscious."

He let his eyes fall shut. He couldn't get out of there. _pain weak hurt_ Hell, he couldn't even get _up_ right now, the room spun that badly when he moved. "Really figured I'd blow myself up." Lorne paused, frowning. He could feel Elizabeth moving closer. "Or Cadman would do it for me. She's good at that sort of thing." He felt a hand, feather-light, on his chest, and opened his eyes to see a big red blur and Elizabeth's concerned face looking fuzzily down at him. "Uh, Dr. Weir, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you and Sheppard have a bug thing going on?"

She nodded, eyes wide and yellow, as she slid his shirt up, fingertips brushing against his chest, and Lorne shuddered. He couldn't decide how that felt _good_, but given that he was a fairly normal guy, the fact that Elizabeth was hot and female trumped the fact that her skin was blue and she was _safe hive his home_ half-cicada. Or whatever. She made a satisfied _chittering_ murmur that sounded mostly human, and lowered her mouth to the cuts on his chest. That...stung a hell of a lot less than it should have, and it was only a couple minutes in that Lorne remembered that saliva in an open wound pretty much guaranteed infection _already one of us_ with the retrovirus _you need more_, and that he _wanted her_ shouldn't let her do that.

Except when he went to _caress_ push her away, Lorne was _furious intrigued_ really annoyed to find that Sheppard was holding his hands in place. "You know, since you're my commanding officer and all, this is really screwing with my mind. I'm pretty sure the Air Force wouldn't approve of my half-bug CO committing homoerotic acts on my very definitely mauled self. Sir."

"Shut it, Lorne," growled Sheppard. Lorne smirked at him.

"Didn't think you guys were much with the talking," said Lorne. His voice was _wrong_ harsher now; it grated against his ears. Elizabeth's hands were at his pants, and she was sliding them down his legs. "Or into threesomes."

When Sheppard bent down over him, Lorne caught a hint of something _desire_ in the air, and his vision focused sharply. His stomach clenched and he jerked up. "Shh," murmured Elizabeth, and then her hand was on his thigh and her body was sliding against his, and Lorne wasn't really sure when either he or Elizabeth had gotten naked. But the sounds she was making in his ear were _arousing_ strange and alien, and she was driving him crazy with them. Still, sex, so he wasn't going to think about it too hard right now. His head was already hurting enough.

Lorne was buried inside her, and Sheppard was staring down _watching, wanting_, angry and intense. Seeing Elizabeth's skin against his, the way Sheppard's hands were gripping his wrists, that was all a turn-on. He'd thought about Elizabeth and what it might be like with her. And he'd be damned if he'd admit out loud _knowledge gained through the hive now_ to thinking the same thing about Sheppard, but he had. Something was in the air, a musky scent _Elizabeth_ that should be alien, but he knew it somehow, and Lorne opened his mouth, trying to breathe it in. When Elizabeth leaned over and _took him_ kissed him, he was flooded with it, and as she screamed and shuddered and writhed against him, he could feel her coming, surrounding him. Lorne gasped hoarsely, trying not to hear the way his voice had changed as everything spiraled into that one moment of release inside of Elizabeth. He'd already been willing to do anything _more now_ for her, every one of them on Atlantis would, but it was _instinct_ bone-deep now.

She moved back, naked and flushed, and when Sheppard moved in, shoving Lorne back down to the floor, he barely noticed that he wasn't dizzy _healed_ any more, and Sheppard's face was clear. Angry, but clear, and when Sheppard kissed him roughly, Lorne wrapped his hand hard around the back of Sheppard's neck and _you started this, now finish it_ didn't let the man pull away. Lorne slid his hand down Sheppard's belly, underneath the waistband of his pants, and palmed the length of Sheppard's cock in his hand. Sheppard jerked against him _overwhelmed rage lust_, then pushed into his hand, growling. He saw a flash of blue, watched Elizabeth's finely clawed hands _intriguing_ pulling down Sheppard's pants, and Lorne didn't look at the color _blue_ of his own skin.

They stopped, watching Elizabeth as she moved back _want to see_ and sat cross-legged, naked and staring at them with yellow-green eyes. Her fingers were circling her entrance, wet and glistening, and she was dipping them slowly inside _full hard again_, pushing. With her other hand, she was rolling one nipple slowly between her fingertips. Her mouth was parted and she licked softly at her lips. She smelled so good. _Queen._ Lorne's nostrils flared. She wanted them to do this _wanted to watch them come_, so he stroked along Sheppard's cock, kissed him again, hard, their bodies moving together _can't get away_ as Sheppard thrust against him _don't want to_, filling the air with their scents, male and hot and _hers_. She wanted them, both of them, and Lorne smirked as Sheppard came.

Barely a minute later, they heard Elizabeth cry out _pleasure desire sated_, and then she was moving, crawling between them _guardians_ and they were laying down on either side of her, surrounding and protecting Elizabeth as they waited until nightfall. _Safer without sunlight to burn their eyes_ Sheppard was cradled against her front, and Lorne was pressed against Elizabeth's back, his blunted claws dimpling the roughened blue skin of her hip where his hand rested. He let his eyes close against the harsh yellow of Atlantis' sunlight, calmed into sleep by the scents of Elizabeth and Sheppard and the edges of their minds _comforting thrum of the hive_ as they meshed with his..

\--the end--


End file.
